


no one man

by ymorton



Series: emily/tommy [1]
Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: F/M, etcetera - Freeform, gray areas, potential for future character growth, toxic masculinity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-20 21:28:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14902346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ymorton/pseuds/ymorton
Summary: The thing nobody knows is, Tommy met her first.





	1. winter

**Author's Note:**

> Hmm. i want to preemptively defend myself but i really can't. this is all FAKE and MADE UP, please do not show this to anyone involved. it is completely false and just 4 fun. 
> 
> thanks for reading this, val/threeturn. ur unfailing support of even my most unpleasant fic ideas means the world to me. 
> 
> dates and times are slightly changed from canon, so don't look too hard. 
> 
> title from kanye's Power (that album came out in november 2010 and is really, REALLY the vibe, in a way i would like to write a thesis on but won't)

**January, 2011**

On Thursday, Tommy has the kind of soul-crushing day at work that makes him take an immediate turn into a bar on his walk home at 9:30. He orders a whiskey and idly responds to emails until he remembers he just worked 14 hours and then he shoves his phone in his pocket and looks around. The bar’s about half full, mostly GW students and Hill interns. It makes Tommy feel old and tired.

He blows out a breath and catches eyes with a blonde girl sitting alone down the bar. She looks at him for a long minute, half-smiling, and then looks down at her phone.

Tommy snorts and drains his whiskey. Okay. Fine. He can work with that.  

He slides into the stool next to hers and says, “Hey.”

“Hi,” she says, maybe shy, maybe just uninterested.

“You look bored,” he says. “Which is fair. This place is kinda boring.”

She snorts.

“What’s your name?” He sticks out a hand. “I’m Tommy.”

“Emily,” she says, shaking it. “Nice to meet you.”

“What are you up to tonight? Just drinking alone on a weeknight? No judgment, it’s one of my favorite activities.”

“Honestly?” she says. “I’m having a shitty week and my roommate just ditched me for her boyfriend. So, I know I look available and probably like, sad and alone, but I’m really not. I’m just finishing my drink because it was expensive and then I’m going home.”

“Well, your honesty is refreshing,” Tommy says, mock-serious. “Full disclosure, I’ve already worked like forty hours this week and it’s only Wednesday. I should probably be in bed, but my boss keeps getting on my case about meeting someone.”

“Your boss?”

“Yeah, he’s, uh. He’s pushy.” Tommy looks up. “Kinda hard to say no to the President, though.”

“The President,” she says, deadpan. “Of the United States?”

“Yeah.”

“The President of the United States is your boss.”

“Yeah.” Tommy starts laughing. “Was that smooth? Was that even _close_ to smooth?”

“That was so not smooth.” She snorts. “As punishment I’m not even going to ask any follow-up questions. You don’t deserve it.”

“That’s fair. I knew it was douchey the moment it came out of my mouth. I promise it’s true though.” He watches her laugh, and adds, “So, can I buy you another drink when you finish that one?”

She looks down at her half-empty drink, and then up at Tommy. Something in her face makes him add, “Or we could grab a drink somewhere else. Like at my place.” 

He pulls a face. “Jesus, my lines are awful tonight.”

“They really are.”

“Sorry. I’m rusty. I haven’t done this in a while.”

She tilts her head. “What’s ‘this’?”

Tommy grins. “Talked to a really cute girl?”

She rolls her eyes.

“Sorry.”

She puts her chin in her hand and considers him.

“How old are you?”

Tommy laughs. “That your idea of small talk?”

“Just wondering.”

“I’m 30.” He laughs sheepishly. “Wow, that still feels weird to say. Freshly turned. Well, a couple months.”

He catches her wince.

“Shit, was that the wrong answer?” he asks, leaning in and laughing. Her eyes slide down to his mouth. “Should I have said older? Younger?”

She snorts. “Why would I want you to be older than 30?”

“I don’t know. I don’t judge.” Tommy grins when she laughs. “Why, how old are you?”

She goes pink.

“I mean, you’re clearly old enough to drink,” Tommy says, stealing her glass and sniffing it. He makes a face. It smells like amaretto, sickly sweet.

“I am,” she says. She hesitates and adds, “Also freshly turned.”

He looks up at her. “Wait, you’re 21?”

“Yep.”

“What are you, in college?”

“Yeah, I’m a senior. I’m just doing an internship on the Hill for J-term. It’s like, like winter session. We do internships and stuff, for like a month.”

“Where do you go to school?”

“University of Richmond. In Virginia.”

“That’s- cool,” Tommy says, even though he’s not really sure if it’s that cool that he’s hitting on a college student. At least she's a senior. “It’s cool you get to come to DC. Do you get paid?” 

“No, just credits.” She sucks on the straw of her drink. “Which is why I needed to finish this stupid drink. My roommate told me this place was cheap.”

“Yeah, working unpaid in DC sucks. But you gotta play the game, you know? Pay your dues or whatever. It’ll pay off.”

“Yeah, I guess,” she says, pushing her empty glass away from her. “That’s like the whole point of the internship thing, I guess.”

“Yeah,” Tommy says, watching her tap her fingers idly on the bar. “So, uh. You want to come over? I’m only a couple blocks from here.”  

For a minute he thinks he’s struck out, but then her mouth curves up and she slides off her barstool.

“Yeah,” she says. “Sure, let’s go.”

\---

They barely talk on the walk back to his apartment, but Tommy can feel her starting to tense in anticipation. He lets her in, locks the door behind them, says, “You can put your coat wherever.”

“Sure,” she says nervously, reaching to unzip it.  

She’s wearing a tight little black skirt underneath, and a sweater that Tommy can see her hard nipples through. No tights, even though it’s like 40 degrees out. Tommy laughs.

“Aren’t you cold?”

She crosses an arm over her chest. “Kinda.”

“C’mere,” he says, reaching for her. “Let me warm you up.”

He kisses her against the door for a while, slow and thorough, and then he slides his hand under her skirt. Her thighs are warm and soft. She whimpers when he gets his fingers into her underwear and he laughs against her mouth.

“Shh, you’re gonna wake my roommate.”

She pulls back, breathless. “You have a roommate?”

“Yeah,” Tommy says. “Don’t worry, he’s a heavy sleeper.”

She looks at him doubtfully.

“I swear,” Tommy laughs, rolling his thumb against her clit. She gasps as her head drops back against the door. “You wanna get off right here?”

“Not if your- if your-” she shudders hard, eyes falling shut. “Oh god.”

Her neck’s flushed and she’s so wet, shivering against him.

“My what?” Tommy murmurs, laughing a little, circling two fingers inside her. She shudders and tightens down on his hand. “If my what?”

She’s gaping up at him, mute, so he takes his fingers out of her cunt and puts them in her open mouth. She makes a face at the taste and then shuts her eyes and sucks them, getting into it. It’s so hot Tommy’s dick throbs and he pushes her against the door with his thigh. He wonders if any guy has ever made her taste herself. Maybe no guy’s ever even done this, fingered her up against a door with her skirt up around her waist and her panties around her knees.

“Fuck,” Tommy gasps, and then- “Shh, shh,” when she moans loud.

“Tommy?” they both hear. Tommy freezes. Emily turns her head away to hide her face, chest heaving.

Lovett’s in the doorway, rubbing his eyes.

“Go to sleep, dude,” Tommy says, voice strained.

“What are you-“ Lovett takes a step forward and stops. “Oh- shit. Sorry.”

Tommy groans. “Go to bed, Lovett.”

“Sorry!” Lovett says again, higher. He turns and leaves and Tommy puts his face into Emily’s neck.

“Sorry,” he says, laughing. “Shit. Sorry. It’s fine, he’s cool, he’s- can I, like- can I taste you?”

Emily lets out a shaky laugh and tucks her hair behind her ears. “Should we go to your room?”

“Nah,” Tommy says, spreading his hands over her skinny thighs. He presses her back against the door and her hips jerk upward, reflexively. “I wanna do it right here. Right out in the open.”

She makes a pained, aroused sound at that and he looks up at her, laughing, as he goes to his knees.

“You like that, huh? Maybe if you’re loud enough he’ll come back out here and watch.”

He feels momentarily guilty for dragging Lovett into this fantasy without his consent but it’s worth it for the way Emily struggles against his hands and then settles back into the door, gasping.

Tommy runs a finger against her, feels how slick she is. He kisses her on the inside of one thigh, and then the other, and then he slips two fingers between her lips and kisses right between them, lets his tongue stroke gently over the nub of her clit. She whimpers, squirms away from the sensation, so he slides his hands onto her ass, pulls her forward against his face and starts licking. Christ she tastes good. Tommy holds her down with his forearms and doesn’t stop or let her up until she’s sobbing into her elbow trying to keep quiet. There’s no way Lovett can’t hear her. The thought makes Tommy shudder and shut his eyes.

She comes once against his face, her whole body shaking, and then again while he’s gently sucking her swollen clit and massaging his fingers deep inside her. He wants to go for a third but her legs are trembling and his knees are starting to ache. He stands up, wincing at how hard he is, and reaches down to adjust himself in his pants.

Emily lets out a long breath and says, “Do you want me to, uh- you want me to-”

She fumbles with the zip of his pants.

“Yeah,” Tommy murmurs, helping her. “Shit. Yeah.”

She goes to her knees and Tommy hums in his throat when she puts her mouth on him.

He’s getting into it, chest heaving, when he sees movement across the darkened living room.

It’s Lovett, standing stock still in the doorway. He’s staring like a deer in headlights. Tommy locks eyes with him and puts his fingers in Emily’s soft hair.

She’s kind of clumsy but it’s working for Tommy. She’s eager for it. Tommy looks down at her bent head and then up again, right into Lovett’s dark, wide eyes. It hits Tommy like a punch in the stomach and he slams his eyes shut and tips his head back against the wall, trying not to thrust up into her mouth.

When he opens them again, Lovett’s gone. Even that’s hot, though, to Tommy’s fucked-up brain. He imagines Lovett scurrying back to his room and getting under the covers and reaching a hand down into his boxers, embarrassed but helpless. Touching his dick thinking about Tommy. Maybe thinking about being in her place, on his knees for Tommy with his smart little mouth full and quiet for once. Tommy groans and says, “Shit. _Shit_ , I’m gonna come.”

She chokes on it a little even with the warning. Tommy reaches over for a tissue and hands it down, watches her spit into it, once, twice. She sniffs as she crumples it in her hand and wipes her chin.

“You good?” he asks, stroking her hair gently. She nods, looks up and around for another tissue. He gives it to her.

“That was so fucking hot,” he says, half out of obligation. He strokes her cheek. “Thank you.”

Emily coughs. Tommy watches her wipe her nose with the tissue and he’s hit with an unpleasant, dizzy rush of clarity. She looks small and too young down there, bra strap pulled down on one shoulder. Tommy clutches the wall and breathes.

She looks up, face flushed.

“Is it- is it cool if I get-” she coughs again, covering her mouth. “Uh, a glass of water?”

“Yeah, of course. One sec.” Tommy rolls off the wall, pulling up his boxers.

When he comes back in with the glass, she’s standing up, skirt pulled back down over her thighs, balancing herself on the wall with one hand as she steps into her shoes.

“You have to go?”

“Yeah,” she says unsteadily. “Sorry. I have work in the morning.”

“It’s fine. I do too.”  

“For the President,” she says, flashing him a smirk.

Tommy laughs. “Hey, it worked, didn’t it?”

“I guess it did. Damnit.”

He knocks her gently up against the wall and kisses her wet mouth.

“That was fun,” he says, pulling back.

“We could hang out again,” Emily says, rushing through it like she’s embarrassed. “If you want.”

She’s so cute. _Hang out_. Tommy kisses her again, licks into her mouth, running his hands firmly down the length of her body. She melts back against the door, sighing against him.

“Yeah,” he says, squeezing her hips and letting go. “Yeah, definitely. Give me your number.”

\---

The next day he eats lunch with Jon in the Mess, gulping down a turkey sandwich and listening to Jon ramble about a writers’ meeting that morning.

Finally he stops for a slurp of his coffee and asks, “What’d you do last night? I texted you.”

Jon did text, to ask if Tommy wanted to come over and watch the Pats game, but Tommy didn’t see it until after Emily left. He almost tells the truth- why the fuck not? it’s not like he did anything illegal- but something makes him say instead, “Oh, I went out with this dude from Kenyon. Sorry, my phone died.”

Jon crunches down on a Sun Chip. “No worries. You see any of the game?”

“I watched some highlights.” 

“It was great, right?”    
  
“Yeah,” Tommy says. He yawns into his sandwich and takes another bite. “It was awesome.”

\---

He goes out on Saturday night with a bunch of work people. The bar they hit up is way too crowded and Tommy runs into one of Katie’s friends in the first ten minutes, so he makes an excuse and gets out of there pretty fast.

He’s making his way back to his place, hands in his coat pockets, when he remembers. Emily. She probably has some shit going on, but it’s worth a try.

He leans against a building and digs out his phone.

 _Hey_ , he types. _You free tonight?_

He hits send and keeps walking, cheeks starting to go numb against the cold. When he gets back to his place he has three messages. Two are from Lovett, one is from her.

He opens Lovett’s first.

_Dont wait up for me. I’m staying over at that Grindr guy’s apartment. The one i showed you._

_All I ask is that you avenge me if he murders me_

Emily sent- _heyyyy i just left a party what ru up to??_

Tommy lets himself into the building and waits for his hands to thaw before he sends back, _im just chilling at my place. My roommate’s out for the night you could come over_

To Lovett he sends- _Have fun my little Padawan. Text me in the morning_

Emily shows up twenty minutes later, tottering in heels and wearing a down parka over a skin-tight dress. She giggles when Tommy presses her against the door and kisses her, sliding his hands under her thick coat.

“Maybe-” she says, breathless as he starts pulling the skinny straps of her dress down. Fuck, she’s not wearing a bra, and she smells so fucking good, like sweet perfume and vodka. It makes his mouth water. “Maybe a bed this time?”

“I have a bed.” Tommy sucks a kiss right above her bare breast, slow and wet.

She exhales a shaky laugh. “I’d love to see it.”

“I guess I could show you.”

“You’re so generous.”

He leads her down the hall by the hand, glancing back when she stops at Lovett’s room. She looks at Tommy, raising an eyebrow. “Is this your roommate’s room?”

“Yeah, I know, he’s a mess.” Tommy reaches over to shut Lovett’s door. “C’mon.”

\---

He eats her out first, til she’s nice and wet, and then he reaches for a condom and pushes inside. She clutches his shoulders, breath caught, and he says, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she gasps. “Yeah. Just. You’re big.”

He’s not gonna pretend he doesn’t like that. He grins against her neck and rolls his hips. “Feel good?”

“Yeah,” she breathes. “Yeah.”

“You feel so good.” He sucks a kiss into her shoulder, murmurs right against her ear- “You’re so fucking tight for me.”

Emily gasps, grabs his back with both hands and tries to push him in deeper. He hides a laugh in her skin, digging his teeth in a little until she squirms under him and moans.

Tommy holds one of her arms down to the bed and rocks deep inside her and she looks up at him, dumbstruck. He doesn’t know why that gets him so fucking hard. She just- wants him. Tommy can see it in her face and feel it in her hot, tight cunt, sucking him in. It makes him want to fuck her forever, all night, over and over until she can’t take it anymore.

Afterwards, Tommy sits up in bed and leans over to crack a window. Emily’s lying there on her back, blinking dazedly up at the ceiling, the sheets pulled up over her legs and stomach.

“You okay?” Tommy asks, reaching over to run his thumb over her nipple. “Was that good?”

“Yeah,” she says hoarsely, shivering when Tommy pinches gently. “Yeah, it was good.”

He’s leaning over for a kiss when a phone starts ringing from somewhere on the floor.

“Oh shit,” she mutters, rolling over suddenly and fumbling for it. “Shit. Sorry. One second.”

She puts the phone to her ear, pushing herself up quickly from the bed. “Hi daddy.”

Tommy laughs and puts his hand over his face. Jesus.

“Yeah,” she says softly, facing away from him. She tucks her hair behind her ear. “Yeah, it’s good. Just busy. How’s work?”

Tommy stands up to go take a piss. When he’s done, she’s still talking. He flops back down into bed with a groan and she looks back at him quickly, shielding the mouthpiece with one hand.

“Dad, I have to go,” she says, crossing an arm over her chest. “Yeah, I’ll call her tomorrow. Okay. Yeah. Love you too. Mmhm, bye.”

She hangs up and stands there for a second. Tommy watches her curiously.

“Sorry,” she says, turning around, face flushed. She tosses her phone down onto her crumpled-up clothes and sits on the edge of the bed. “We hadn’t talked in a while. He’s been texting me all night, he would’ve freaked out if I didn’t pick up.”

“It’s cool,” Tommy says, sticking a hand under his head. “It’s cute. You’re a daddy’s girl, huh?”

She looks back at him and rolls her eyes. “Where are you from?”

“Boston,” Tommy says. “Born and raised.”

She huffs a laugh. “That makes sense.”

“Why, where are you from? No, wait. I wanna guess.”

She looks back again, mouth tugging up at the edges. He reaches out and slides his hand over her thigh.

“California,” he says, slipping his fingers into the crease of her hip. “Orange County.”

She laughs. “Are you serious?”

He shrugs, grinning, and she looks away.

“Actually I’m from Ohio,” she says.

Tommy snorts. “Seriously?”  

“Yep. Cincinnati.” She reaches for her dress on the floor. “I should probably get back, I have to work tomorrow.”

“Working on the weekend,” Tommy says slowly, touching her back now, over the knobs of her spine. “Aren’t you like an intern? Do you even get paid?”

“We have this fundraiser luncheon thing. I have to help set up.”

“Sounds fun.”

Emily wriggles into her dress. “Maybe I’ll see you next weekend or something. I mean, if you want.”

“Yeah, just text me.”

She nods, pulling her hair back, and steps into her heels.

“Thanks,” she says at the door.

“Thank _you_ ,” Tommy says reflexively. “Have a good night.”

It comes out awkward, and she huffs a laugh and closes the door behind her. For a second he stares dazedly up at the ceiling, wondering if he should’ve asked her to stay, and then he rolls out of bed and starts pulling off the wet sheets. Nah. It’s not that kind of thing.

\---

The night before Emily leaves DC, Tommy goes over to her shitty little Foggy Bottom apartment and fucks her so hard her roommate bangs on the connecting wall for them to shut up. He puts a hand over her mouth while she finishes and she bites it, looks up at him with dark furious eyes, moans against his palm until he can feel her pulsing around him, tight and hot.

After she comes, he pulls out and jerks off, hunched over and breathless, straddling her waist. She watches him silently, eyes glazed over, blonde hair splayed out on the pillow- only touches him after he finishes on her stomach, when she reaches out to run a hand down his thigh. He feels weirdly vulnerable with her looking up at him so he reaches for a handful of tissues and gives them to her.

“I’m gonna wash up,” he says, climbing off the bed. If she answers him, he doesn’t hear it.

He splashes water on his face in her tiny bathroom. The counter’s littered with bottles of makeup and soap and it smells like mildewy shower curtain.

When he comes out she’s dressed, in a big t-shirt and a pair of underwear.

“When do you leave tomorrow?” Tommy asks, grabbing his boxers.

“My bus leaves at 10:30.”  
  
“Cool.” Tommy rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “Well, I hope you have a good trip back.”

She hands him his clothes. “Thanks.”

When he pulls his t-shirt over his head, she’s right there, looking up at him.

“I’ll see you,” Tommy says, brushing a piece of hair off her cheek. He doesn’t like the expression on her face. It’s something cool and detached, assessing him almost. It reminds him of Katie. Sometimes everything does. He wonders if that’ll ever end.

“See you,” she says quietly. “This was, uh. Fun. Thanks. I had fun.”

“Yeah, me too. I had a great time.” Tommy kisses her, presses his thumb into the soft spot above her jawbone.  “Text if you’re back in town ever, we can get drinks or something.”

“Yeah, for sure.”

He kisses her one last time, hard and short. Something for her to remember on the bus the next day. “Have a safe trip back.”


	2. summer

On a Wednesday morning in June, Tommy wakes up at 6:00 to Lovett warbling something loud and offkey in the shower and a text that says, _Hey, long time no talk, but I actually just moved to DC last week!! Want to grab lunch sometime? This is Emily Black, btw._

Tommy squints at it with one eye, and then yells, “Lovett, shut up!”

The shower turns off abruptly. A minute later, Lovett sticks his damp head in the doorway and says primly- “No need to yell.”

“No need to sing that fucking loud when I’m trying to sleep,” Tommy counters, and Lovett huffs and shuts the door.

Tommy sits up and looks back at his phone. Lunch, huh? Of course she wants to do lunch now that she lives here and is probably looking for a job. No more booty calls.

He huffs a laugh and types, _Hey, welcome to DC. Yeah let’s hang. How about Friday night actually? I’m going out with a couple people from work, you could meet them._

Maybe she thinks he can get her a job in the White House. Joke’s on her, Tommy can’t get anyone a job. He can barely manage his own.

She texts back in the late morning, when he’s eating leftover Thai food and trying to focus on a white paper about Syria.

_That’d be fun!! Just tell me when/where. :)_

\---

She’s late to the bar on Friday night, and Tommy watches the door until Cody notices and laughs.

“Jesus, dude. Who is this girl? You haven’t looked away from the door in like ten minutes.”

“No one,” Tommy says vaguely. “Just a friend. She just moved to town, she doesn’t know anybody, I said I'd introduce her to some people.”

Cody snorts knowingly. “Just a friend, huh?" 

Finally the bar door swings open and it’s her. She looks around, tucking her hair behind her ear, and Tommy stands up and waves.

“Hey,” he says, when she’s made her way through the crowd. He wraps her in a hug. “Long time no see, how you been?”

“Good!” she says, muffled into his shoulder. She pulls back. “Great. I mean, I’ve barely unpacked, but I’m good.”

“When’d you get here?”

“Umm, last weekend. Sunday. So it’s been like… a week and a half.” She smiles tentatively at Cody. “Hi.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry. This is Cody, we work together.”

“Well, kind of,” Cody says, sticking out a hand. “Hi.”

“I’m Emily.”

“Nice to meet you. Welcome to DC.”

“Thank you,” she says, biting her lip.

“Where’d you move from?”

“Uhh, Richmond. I just graduated.”

“From… college?” Cody asks.

She lets out an awkward laugh. “Yeah.”

“Cool,” Cody says after a long second. “Congrats, that’s awesome. What’d you major in?”

Tommy looks away, embarrassed, and sees Jon making his way in. He waves.

“Hey,” Jon says, squeezing Tommy’s shoulder. “Sorry, that meeting went long.”  

“No worries. Did you finish the speech for the AFL-CIO thing next week?”

“Almost. We’re getting there. Couple numbers we need to get back.” Jon yawns so wide Tommy can see his molars until he sees Emily watching him and he snaps his mouth shut, blushing. “Uh, hi.”

“Oh yeah,” Tommy says, putting a hand on Jon’s back. “This is my friend Jon. Jon, this is Emily. She just moved to DC.”

“Hey.”

“Hey,” she says. “Nice to meet you. Long day?”

“How could you tell?” Jon says, face splitting in a smile, gap teeth flashing. Emily looks- dazzled. Tommy has to suppress a laugh. He claps Jon on the shoulder and says, “Well, I gotta get a drink.”

The wait at the bar takes forever. There’s a bunch of college girls in front of him ordering shots, and it takes five minutes for the bartender to even make eye contact with him. Finally Tommy gets a beer, and he drops a dollar on the bar and takes a deep gulp, turning around to scan the bar.

Jon and Emily are still in the corner talking. Emily’s leaning forward so Jon can see down her shirt and her face is pink, her eyes lit up. Jon’s grinning and gesturing wide, mid-story. Tommy wonders how fast he told Emily he’s the chief presidential speechwriter. Probably pretty fast. Jon’s not an idiot.

Tommy looks away, sipping his beer. There’s a group of girls chatting at a table by the Pac-Man machine and a few of them keep looking his way, but he doesn’t feel like starting something. That’s the part he misses about being in a relationship, the way he didn’t have to do all the intro work, all the small talk and the stupid questions. He could get a beer and talk shit with his friends and then go home to Katie, who knew him. Who loved him. Of course, the flip side is that none of those girls over there hate his guts the way Katie does now. Tommy swallows hard and tips the bottle up to his mouth, shaking that thought off. He’s not spending another fucking night unraveling that thread.

\---

On Monday Tommy has a four hour meeting that starts at 7:30 AM. When it finally ends, his eyes are burning and he needs coffee bad. Luckily Jon’s waiting in Tommy’s office, leaning against his desk next to two venti Starbucks cups, staring at his Blackberry.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Tommy says, pushing carefully past him so he can sit down.

Jon flops into the chair next to his desk and pushes one of the coffees across to him. “That’s for you.”

Tommy takes a sip and groans in relief. “Thanks, man.”

“No problem.” He grins at Tommy. “Dude, guess what? I asked that girl out.”

He always says guess what and then immediately tells Tommy what. Tommy hits the spacebar to wake up his laptop. “What girl?”

“From the bar. From Saturday night.” Jon looks giddy. “Emily. I asked if she wanted to go out on the boat with us this weekend.”

Tommy looks up.

“What’d she say?”

Jon grins wider like that’s exactly what he was hoping Tommy would ask. He reads from his Blackberry. “‘Judge Black- that’s her dad, he’s a District Court judge in Ohio- always advised me not to go to sea with strangers,” he reads from his Blackberry. “‘But I’d be happy to go on a land-based date with you this weekend.’”

He looks up, bright-eyed.

“Nice,” Tommy says, too exhausted to act excited. Emily’s dad is a judge? She never said that.

“She’s cool,” Jon says, kicking his feet up on Tommy’s desk and staring at his Blackberry again. A private little smile curls his mouth. “She’s, like. Funny.”

Tommy bites the inside of his cheek and says, “That’s great, man.”

“Maybe we’ll do dinner. What’s that place you guys always went on your anniversary? The Italian place in Georgetown? That place is nice.”

“Cafe Milano,” Tommy says dully, not even trying to sound excited anymore. Jon’s such a - dick sometimes. It’s worse, because he’s not even trying to be. He thinks about Jon and Emily getting to know each other at that restaurant, drinking wine and flirting, maybe sitting at the same table he always sat at with Katie, the little table in the back by the piano. Katie was big on that kind of stuff- rituals, traditions. Tommy narrows his eyes at his computer.

“Yeah,” Jon says, distracted, tapping away on his Blackberry. “Yeah, I bet she’ll like that.”

\---

Spring fades into summer and somehow, improbably, Emily and Jon start genuinely dating. Tommy's forced to sit through a fair amount of dinners and happy hours and nights out that revolve around the hilarious thing Emily said that day, the date Emily and Jon went on the night before, the shitty day Emily had at work, or the article Emily read that week in Vogue or where fucking ever. He's heard it all. Jon's fucking hooked.

In July, Lovett tells him that he’s leaving. Tommy’s getting ready for a garden party at Jon’s house while Lovett lays on his bed and procrastinates by making fun of Tommy’s outfit and moaning about the speech he’s sworn he’s gonna finish by the end of the weekend. 

Finally he lapses into silence, and then says, “Hey, Tommy.”

Tommy looks up from his phone. “What? I’m not changing my shirt again, Lovett. It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine, but whatever. Your sense of style is beyond my help.” Lovett sits up, crossing his legs. “Hey, listen. So. Guess what.”

“What?”

Lovett sticks a nail in his mouth and gnaws it for a second.

“So, I’m leaving the White House,” he says. “And I’m moving to California. To Los Angeles.”

Tommy looks over at him. “Wait, what? Are you serious?”

“Yep.” Lovett looks up at him. “My last day is in August- and I’m leaving town in September.  September 23. I think. I’ve been talking with some production companies out there about, uh, producing my own TV show.”

“Whoa.” Tommy puts his phone down on the dresser. Lovett talks about how great LA seems all the time, but Tommy didn’t think he’d actually do something about it. “That’s, uh. That’s crazy. When did you decide that?”

Lovett shrugs. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while. But- but maybe like, April is when I really started making plans? I told Jon last month but he’s sworn to secrecy.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

They watch each other for a minute. Tommy has this feeling he should say something emotional and encouraging, but he can’t think of anything. His head hurts.

“Good for you, Lovett,” he finally manages. “Don’t forget us when you’re famous.”

“What’s your name again?” Lovett asks, and Tommy flips him off. Lovett snickers to himself, hugging his knees.

“Do you-” he starts. He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth. “Do you think it’s a good idea? I mean, Jon said he was excited for me, but you know how he is. He’d rather cut off his own arm than express a negative opinion.”

Tommy laughs absently. _Does_ he think it’s a good idea? Lovett’s smart in the kind of easy, natural way Tommy’s always been envious of. He’s funny, most of the time. He knows people out there. He’s a good writer. But he’s also been writing speeches in DC for the past three years, where no one has a sense of humor, plus his work ethic is fucking abysmal. Is he good enough to actually, like, make it? It’s not like he can come crawling back to the White House if he flops. That’s not how it works.

Lovett’s still looking up at him, dark-eyed, hugging himself. Tommy sees his throat work in a nervous swallow.

“Yeah, dude,” Tommy says, softening. Jesus, why is he being such a miserable dick? “It’ll be great. You’ll be great. You’ll kick ass out there.”

Lovett smiles a little, brow unfurrowing. He puts his chin on his knee. “Thanks, Tommy.” 

Tommy checks the time on his phone. “I better go.”

Lovett sniffles in a breath and waves him off with one hand. “The garden awaits.”

\---

The party’s solid for a couple hours, until he ends up in a corner of the backyard with Emily because Jon’s inside making another pitcher of gin and tonics. They small-talk about whatever for a few minutes and then fall into an uncomfortable silence.

“So,” Emily says after she finishes her drink. “So, uh, Jon told me about your dad. I’m really sorry.”

It hits him like a punch. He wasn’t expecting that. He hadn’t even thought about his dad in like, two full hours. He draws in a very careful breath and then says, evenly, “Thanks.”

“You didn’t tell me,” Emily says, leaning against the wall, watching him. “Like, when we first met. Jon said it was in December, that’s like- right before we met.”

Tommy feels abruptly dizzy with anger, like he used to all the time after it happened. He tries to breathe. “Why would I tell you that? Think I wanted a pity fuck?”

Emily blinks a couple times, and takes a step away.

“No,” she says, crossing an arm over her chest. “Just, I don’t know, I thought you might’ve-”

“You don’t know anything about me,” Tommy says, laughing a little, sour in his throat. “Do you think you know me because we slept together a couple times?”

“No,” she says again, confused. “I mean- I just mean, we could’ve talked about it, if you needed to. Like-”

“Don’t do this,” Tommy says. He’s laughing again because he might cry if he doesn’t. “Go ask Jon about his fucking feelings, Emily, don’t come play therapist with me. I’m not your boyfriend.”

“Don’t be a dick,” she says shakily. “I’m just trying to be nice.”

“Oh, I’m a dick now because I don’t want to confide in someone I barely know about my personal family stuff. That’s cool.”

Emily narrows her eyes at him. When she speaks again her voice is cold and bored. “You know what? It’s fine. We don’t have to hang out. I was trying to make a fucking effort, but I really don’t need to see you again.”

Tommy laughs, rough in his throat. “Jon’s my best friend. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Oh, I know,” she says, still in that lofty, cool voice. Tommy hates when girls talk like that. “But you and I don’t have to be friends. It’s like you just said, right? All we did was sleep together a couple times.”

He wants to run the fuck away from her and he wants to press her up against the wall. He stays completely still.

“It’s fine,” she says lightly. “We hooked up and you were kind of an asshole. Obviously you were going through some shit. Whatever. Let’s just forget it happened.”

“You didn’t seem to mind,” Tommy says, pulse rising. _Going through some shit_ , what the fuck does that mean? She has no clue what he was fucking going through or not going through. “You weren’t exactly begging me to stop-”

She rolls her eyes and turns away, and he catches her arm.

“I thought we had a pretty good time,” he says, trying not to let his voice crack. He circles his thumb and forefinger around her narrow wrist. She’s soft and she smells good. “You sure you wanna forget about it?”

“Jesus,” she breathes, shaking his hand off. “Are you actually trying this right now? Jon’s right inside.”

“Not trying anything,” he says, leaning in.

She pushes him away. “Stop it.”

“Emily-”

“ _Stop_.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “You’re better than this.”

Tommy laughs. “You think so?”

“Jon thinks so,” she says, eyes dark. “He fucking loves you. That’s pretty much the only reason I’m here right now.”

“Jon-”  he laughs again, and it breaks in his throat. Shit. He wants her to stop looking at him. “Jon’s an idiot. He thinks everyone’s a fucking- saint. Jon- Jon just feels bad for me because of my dad-”

His voice breaks. He ducks his head and pushes past her, shoving the back gate open.

“Tommy-” he hears her call, but he’s gone before she can stop him. When he’s outside he can breathe again, and he only drops a couple tears, inhales deep enough that the feeling quiets and settles down in his throat. It’s always there, though. Waiting.

When he gets home, Lovett’s on the sofa with four cans of Diet Coke in front of him and his laptop on his knees. He looks up, blinking like an owl.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” Tommy says, swiping his hand over his nose. He locks the door behind him.

“How was the ‘garden party’?” Lovett says, typing with one hand and doing air quotes with the other.

“It was fine.”

“Just fine? It wasn’t the pinnacle of your fucking existence because I couldn’t go? Because I’m devoted to my craft? Because I always put work first?”

Tommy snorts. “You’re such a drama queen.”

“That’s homophobic.” Lovett looks back at his laptop. “God, I hate this speech.”

“How far are you?”

“That’s a very personal, sensitive subject.”

Tommy laughs, and flops down on the couch next to him, stretches his legs out and nudges Lovett’s thigh with his toes.

“Hey Lovett.”

Lovett takes a slurp of his Diet Coke. “What.”

Tommy stares at the ceiling. He swallows hard and says, “Do you think I’m a good person?”

Lovett snorts, not looking up from his laptop. “Of course not. You’re the mouthpiece of the military-industrial complex. You’re practically a fascist.”

Tommy kicks him and Lovett yelps and smacks his ankle.

“For real though,” Tommy says, suddenly nervous. He shuts his eyes.

“What happened?”

“Nothing,” Tommy says. He opens his eyes and heaves a sigh. “Nothing.”

“You’re fine, Tommy. Don’t be weird.”

Tommy turns his face to the back of the couch, suddenly exhausted.

“Are you about to pass out on me?” Lovett says. He sounds reluctantly happy about it. Tommy should probably go to bed and not be an asshole, but instead he re-settles his feet in Lovett’s lap and says, “Shhh.”

He hears the quiet snick of Lovett shutting his laptop.

“Good night, Tommy,” he says, small.  

“Night, Lovett,” Tommy murmurs. He squeezes his eyes shut. After a long minute Lovett curls his hand around Tommy’s ankle, slowly, finger by finger. If Tommy were drunker he might sit up and do something with that, just to see if Lovett has the balls to actually follow through, but he’s so close to sleep. He sighs pointedly and Lovett yanks his hand away like he’s touched fire.

\---

In August they spend a sunny, humid Saturday afternoon out on the water. It’s supposed to be Jon and Emily and Tommy and Cody and Cody’s girlfriend, but Cody bails at the last second, so it’s just the three of them. Jon’s delighted, of course, because it’s his life goal to make Emily and Tommy like each other. Little does he fucking know.

Tommy gets them safely out of the harbor and then opens up the cooler while Jon goes off to act like he knows what the hell he’s doing with the boat. Tommy watches him fondly until Emily says, laughing, “There’s no way he’s doing that right.”

“Nope,” Tommy says. “But don’t tell him, it’ll hurt his feelings.”

She snorts, stretching her tan smooth legs out in front of her. “God, I can’t believe I’m on a _sailboat_. With a couple of WASPs. This is like, what I thought life would be like on the East Coast all the time. Just boating.”

“One WASP,” Tommy says.

“Huh?”

“WASP stands for White Anglo Saxon _Protestant_. So technically, Jon’s a WASC. White Anglo Saxon Catholic.”  

Somehow she makes her eyeroll visible beneath her sunglasses. “Know-it-all.”

“Just getting the facts straight. These are things you have to learn now that you’re dating a New Englander. It’s an important distinction.”

She laughs, looks out at the water.

They’re silent for a minute until something makes Tommy say, “My dad taught me how to sail.”

She looks over at him. “Really?”

“Yeah.” He’s glad they’re both wearing sunglasses. It makes it easier to talk. “We used to go to Cape Cod in the summer. When I was twelve we sailed down to Florida together.”

“That’s cool.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Tommy’s face feels hot. He looks out at the water. “I used to want my own boat. That was like my life goal. Didn’t give a fuck about college, didn’t care about anything else. I just wanted to get a boat and sail around the world.”

She snorts. “That’s kinda cute.”

He watches her for a second and she looks back. Or at least he thinks she’s looking. It’s hard to tell.

Jon yells something, lost in the wind, and Tommy looks away, letting out a breath.

“What’s up?” he calls. Jon beckons for him frantically.

“Please don’t let him sink the boat,” Emily says, as Tommy sets his beer down and stands up. “I’m too young to die.”

Tommy huffs a laugh. “I’ll see what I can do.”

\---

After a while the wind calms down and the sun starts to set and they settle in with another round of drinks. Jon puts an arm around Emily, cuddles her close, and Tommy tips his head back against the seat and stares at the sky. He always loved to do that when he was a kid. He got horribly seasick on his first long sailing trip and his dad told him to lie down and look up and breathe.

When he sighs and lifts his head, Jon and Emily are kissing, one of Jon’s hands cupping the back of her head.

“I’m right here,” Tommy says mildly, and Jon pulls away, looking sheepish and happy. He looks so fucking happy lately. Tommy’s trying not to hold it against him. If anyone deserves it, it’s Jon.

“Sorry,” Jon says, kissing Emily’s temple. She puts her head quietly down on his shoulder. “Tom, when do you leave for France again?”

“Uhh, Thursday.”

“You’re going to France?” Emily asks.

“Yeah. Work trip.” Tommy grabs his beer. “Just for a few days.”

“Tommy has to go do top secret national security things,” Jon teases. “Don’t even ask him, he can’t tell you.”

“More like some very boring damage control,” Tommy says. He gulps his beer.

“That’s cool.” Emily slides a hand onto Jon’s knee and squeezes.

“You ever been?” Tommy asks.

“Yeah, when I was a kid. We had this foreign exchange student live with us for a couple months, and then we went to go visit her family.”

“I’ve only been once,” Jon says. “With the President. You went on that trip, Tom. What was it, 2009?”

Tommy looks away, out at the water. “Yep.”

“Is this gonna be your first time back since-” Jon stops with a wince. “Oh. Shit, sorry, dude.”

Emily looks curious. “What?”

Jon looks at Tommy, eyebrow raised.

“Nothing,” Tommy says. He’s feeling loose, softened by the beer, so he adds, “I, uh. I got engaged in Paris. And yeah, it’s my first time back.”

There’s an uneasy silence, and then Jon says brightly, “Tommy speaks French. He’s fluent.”

Tommy chokes a laugh. “I’m not fluent.”

“Dude, you basically are. Don’t sell yourself short.” Jon looks relieved at the change in topic. “I never learned any other languages. I mean, I took four years of Spanish in high school, but I’ve retained nothing. It’s actually really sad.”

“Oh my god, same!” Emily says. “All I remember is like, como estás, and like, biblio-” 

“Biblioteca!” Jon finishes, laughing. “Why was that always the go-to word?”

“I have no idea. It was _all_ about la biblioteca.”

“Is it the same word in French, Tom?”

“La bibliothéque,” Tommy says, with a snort. “Pretty close.”

“Say something in French,” Emily says, tipping her head back against Jon’s chest.

“Yeah, Tom, do it. Something hard.”

Tommy rolls his eyes. “I’m not a fucking trained monkey.”

Emily laughs. “Say _that_ in French.”

“Je ne suis pas un singe de cirque,” Tommy says. “Mon _dieu_.”

“Whoa,” Jon says. “That sounded cool.”

Emily nods. “That sounded fancy. I have no idea what you said, but it sounded fancy.”

“Merci beaucoup.” Tommy does a fake curtsy and they both crack up.

After a minute Emily says, still laughing, “Hey, you know what, Jon? I should introduce Tommy to my new roommate. She’s single.”

“Oh, that’s a great idea,” Jon says, kissing the top of her head. “What’s her name again?”

“Hanna. She’s really sweet. She just moved to DC.” 

Tommy narrows his eyes at her. She raises an eyebrow right back.

“Dude, come on!” Jon says, oblivious. “She’s awesome, I met her last week. You guys would totally hit it off. We could double date.”

“You sure you wanna do that?” Tommy asks.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Emily says, quieter. She scrunches her nose at Tommy. Jon’s leaning over to reach in the cooler and doesn’t notice. “We should all go out this weekend, it’d be fun.”

Tommy doesn’t know why his eyes are prickling. He knocks his sunglasses back down over his eyes and clears his throat.

“Cool,” he says. “Yeah, I’d be up for that.”

Emily nestles into Jon’s side as he straightens up with a beer between his fingers. She smiles softly at Tommy and it feels better than he wants it to. It feels like being forgiven. “Cool.”

**Author's Note:**

> i'm at podsaveoursouls on tumblr, please feel free to come yell at me about how actually tommy is a perfect tender-hearted big-shouldered unicorn prince.


End file.
